Summer

  ~ A Home Left Behind ~

  A knock on the door had brushed the nap away. Yet for the first time in a long time, the unexpected sound hadn’t thrown you into a full-blown panic, only a mild startle.

  16:24.

  The visitor waited behind the doorway, a silhouette framed by the open threshold. A messenger. One you had expected. He carried news of their current whereabouts and a gift in his outstretched hand: protein bars. Chocolate and nuts. A delicacy you had forgotten the taste of, but which inexplicably got you salivating.

  Handshakes and expressed gratitude, and the herald was on his way, bidding you safe travels. You had grown used to visitors now, members of Rook’s group. They had brought trade and conversation to the lonely cabin, and purpose to your daily activities. With the summer days and their bright afternoons, your hours were no longer spent merely surviving but creating. Your latest project, a direct manifestation of need.

  It was achieved that day with the last spokes mounted on their hubs, and the four wooden wheels fixed on their axles. Before the sun would set, there was still much to be done. But after a few demanding hours, the makeshift cart had been loaded with the accumulated provisions, seasoned firewood and tools. Everything you’d need for your future endeavours.

  Or they would make for a good start and increased odds.

  The valley exhaled the heat of day. The night settled on the cooling prairie. You lingered outside, gazing at the starry sky, eyes following the Milky Way. A path you’d echo come the morrow.

  Crickets chirped in the underbrush, an owl whistled from the canopy. You would come to miss it, no doubt. But you found solace in knowing the city wasn’t what it used to be—some of the rural pleasures now found in the urban landscape. Even among the ruin, some life had returned, or that’s what they had told you, at least.

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  Your mind churned with the unease that came with the unknown. Perhaps the idea was madness. Perhaps you’d regret it. But it felt like the right time to leave the hurt behind. Let the dark thoughts and painful memories locked in what used to be a home. And you could always return to enjoy a few days of peace if the worries became overwhelming.

  Although you never would.

  The cabin would go back to its state of decay, stranded in the woods with the ghosts of the past. And you’d sometimes wonder what became of it. Whether a family of animals had claimed it as their own. Or someone breathed their last breath on the wooden floor and turned it into a mushroom breeding ground. ‘Maybe someday,’ that’s what you always told yourself.

  But someday had never seemed to come.

  In spite of your worries for the future, sleep had managed to claim you, and soon enough, dawn woken you. With one last look in the mirror, your face clean-shaven and tanned, you made your goodbyes, checking that you had packed everything of value. And with the scratch of charcoal on paper, you made the final mark on the calendar.

  August 1st.

  A fine day for a new beginning.

  You stepped on the porch and closed the door behind you. The cart strapped to your waist, the backpack to your shoulders, you ventured past the garden and the limits of your perimeter. Making the first steps this far from the cabin in perhaps a year.

  One foot after another, you traced a trail in the forest, the cart creaking behind. The trees gave way to fields, the fields to roads. And before long, the horizon harboured buildings, angled as if the wind had blown through them. But it was different from your memory. Wild. Free.

  Quiet.

  This was when you realised how clueless you were about what awaited under the skyscrapers' watchful gaze. Beyond the concrete walls and forgotten order. But at least you wouldn’t have to deal with it alone. Not this time. They were waiting for you there. Hoping you would help them understand the disease better. Perhaps even render life worth living.

  And while you didn’t share their optimism, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, for once, it felt right. And as the road stretched on and on. The cart’s wooden wheels groaned against the earth. And the memories of a year spent alone and broken faded behind your back.

  For once, there was certainty.

  For once, no doubt… that you would finally belong.

  ***

  Please, if you have a minute I would love for you to share your thoughts with me. And if you'd like to read similar things in the future do let me know as well. I'd be more than happy to deliver. In time.

  I hope you enjoyed your time as Alek. And we'll see each other next week for the beginning of Part 3.